


for you i would ruin myself, a million little times

by societysgot



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, basically deleted scenes, enemies to lovers type, enjoy, i don't know what this is, let's go hassandra nation, only in the first three episodes, or alternative added scenes, or how long will it be but, set in new ham
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/societysgot/pseuds/societysgot
Summary: "God, you think you're so special," He taunts, his mouth mere inches away from her.She can feel his curls brush against her forehead. And he's so close and familiar — and she's thinking about those nights in New Haven — she really tries not to but she can't help it. She's thinking about his hands on her and their bodies pressed together and his breath hot against her ear. And she can't decide whether she wants to pull him closer or never let him touch her again—a collection of missing moments and alternative scenes set in new ham during the events of episodes one-three
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Allie Pressman, Harry Bingham/Cassandra Pressman
Comments: 35
Kudos: 49





	1. welcome to the new age

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i don't know how this happened but i started writing random scenes set throughout the first three episodes of the society that i wish we had gotten to see — and thought i would share them? basically i think every interaction between hassandra in the show to me insinuated a past relationship of some kind that clearly had an impact on both parties. so i wanted to explore that ~angst~ here. enjoy <3
> 
> also, just a heads up, this fic is in many ways a continuation of my prequel fic: 'our bodies are young and blue' and refers back to their fleeting yet meaningful relationship at yale. so if you haven't read that, i would recommend it <3 thank you!

**[episode one: what happened]**

_; outside the church_

Cassandra leans against the pillars of the church entrance, letting the sun rays wash over her face. It's morning now, and unfortunately yesterday wasn't just a dream. Or even some fucked up nightmare in fact. It was real. They really had returned to a deserted town on buses in the middle of the night, and had woken up to the same strange reality. Fuck.

"I'll get a car, go to Greenwich and get help," She says finally, still looking out at the map of abandoned homes spanning out in front of them. 

"Why you?"

The blonde places the voice immediately. She lets out an audible sigh.

Of course, Harry would have a problem with it. He seemed to have a problem with everything she did these days. She so much as breathed the wrong way, and he would have something to say about it. Fuck him, honestly.

"Someone has to find out where everyone went," She replies, simply, "We can't all go."

"I'll do it."

She can feel his gaze burning into the back of her skull. Slowly turning on the spot, she raises her eyebrows at him.

"You're sober?" 

He lets out a low chuckle, but his stare is cold. "Fuck you, Cassandra."

The blonde girl rolls her eyes, resting her head back against the pillar. She doesn't have the energy to fight back. Not today. 

"Luke, you wanna come with?" Harry asks lazily, and Luke (whose face is a pasty white colour at present) nods, forcing a smile. 

Cassandra leans her head to the side a little, watching as Luke helps Harry to his feet. Will is eying them both too — with a look of disgust, she might add. He might hate Harry nearly as much as she does, she realises. 

They watch as Luke walks to a drink tap several metres away — or rather staggers towards it, leaving Harry standing on the side of the road, looking around impatiently. (Where the hell is Helena when you need her? Dear god.)

"He's a mess," Will whispers, shaking his head before turning back towards Allie and Sam who seem to be caught up in a tense conversation. But Cassandra brushes her fringe out of her eyes as she turns way from them, her gaze following her dark haired rival several metres away. She makes her way down the path, falling in step behind him. 

"I'm coming with you."

Harry whizzes around on the spot, frowning. "Like hell you are."

"You're literally hungover," She says, pointedly, arms crossed in front of her small frame.

"I'm _fine_."

"You're really not."

"Well, whatever — Luke can drive us then — happy?"

The blonde scoffs. "Luke was throwing up in a shoe barely fifteen minutes ago. Not to mention he's as white as a sheet."

"Cassandra, we don't need a fucking chaperone, okay?" He all but spits, his dark hair sticking out in all directions.

He looks surprisingly good for someone who is no doubt running on next to no sleep and most likely disguising a pretty god awful headache. (But it's Harry. And he always looks good. Again, fuck him). His dark eyes are fixed on her and he isn't even bothering to hide his disdain. She sighs loudly, taking a step back. 

"Fine. I'll just call Kelly and ask her to come with you," Cassandra replies, tiredly, "She's responsible, I doubt she's as hungover as you ar—"

" _Don't_ call her."

His tone is sharp — cutting almost. "Why not?"

"None of your fucking business."

Cassandra watches him for a moment before deciding she can't resist. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut the fuck up."

At that exact moment, the terrible sound of someone retching reverberates behind them. Harry sighs as they both turn around to find Luke throwing up his guts. Charming.

"Church boy cannot handle his liquor, huh," Will comments, sporting a grimace.

Allie bites back a smile and looks over at her. "Helena taught him well."

"For fuck's sake," Harry says, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend expel what has to be the entire contents of his stomach. 

After a minute or so of them all witnessing a lovely scene of Luke and his projectile vomit, Harry walks off in a huff leaving his friend keeled over on the ground. Sam (bless him) is at Luke's side within seconds with Allie in tow, the two helping him back to his feet. 

"I'm going. You can come if you must," Harry calls over his shoulder to her, "Just don't call Kelly."

His car is parked a little further down the street, she quickly realises. It's his white BMW (of fucking course) — the one he had gotten for his seventeenth birthday — it had been the talk of the town at the time. (But to this day, Cassandra still doesn't get the fuss). She walks behind him a few paces, almost skipping to keep up with him.

And she almost laughs at the little noise Harry lets out when they both reach the door to the driver's side at the same time. He draws himself up to his full height, looking down at her. He gives her a disbelieving look. 

"You're kidding." Cassandra raises her eyebrows at him in challenge. "You're batshit if you think I'm letting you drive _my_ car."

"You're batshit if you think I'm letting you drive _any_ car," She retorts, "You're hungover and you look like shit."

"You know, you don't look so great yourself."

"Well, at least I'm sober."

"Cassandra—"

"Hand over the keys, Harry," She cuts in over the top, her voice stern and unrelenting. 

He must sense her that she's not going to let this go, because he gives in much faster than she expects — evidently too tired to put up a fight (that makes two of them). She watches as he begrudgingly digs his keys out of his pocket and drops them into her palm. His hand grazes over hers for a second longer than it should, before he moves to the other side of the car. He's glaring at her when she sits down.

"If you get so much as a scratch on this, you're dead."

"Duly noted."

But they barely make it a few blocks before Harry shifts around in his seat to face her, looking agitated.

"Okay, I know I said I didn't want you to crash my car but, holy _fuck_ — you drive at a snail pace."

"I drive at the speed limit," Cassandra replies, stiffly.

"You realise no one's gonna give you a ticket? There's no one here remember?"

"It's safer to drive at the recommended speed, you ass."

"See if it were me, and I was driving — we would probably be there by now."

"Yes but if it was you, you'd probably have run down a few pedestrians before we made it half way," The blonde hisses, the words all rushing together as they leave her mouth.

But luckily it still does the job. She feels him slump back in his seat next to her, looking pissed off. And he continues the child-holding-in-a-temper-tantrum act for a whole five minutes before he gives it up and begins scrolling through his phone. 

"You think someone at Greenwich will be able to tell us what the hell's going on?" Cassandra asks, chewing her lip, her shoulders tense.

"Hopefully," Harry answers, with an air of indifference that causes Cassandra to look over him in surprise.

"How are you so calm?"

To her surprise, he just smirks lazily at her. "Didn't think there was any need for alarm. Our very own student council president told us there was nothing to worry about, after all." 

Cassandra shoots him a glare, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. 

"You did say there has to be an obvious explanation last night, right? Mind telling me what that is exactly?"

"You and I both know that I have no fucking clue what's going on," She replies, tightly, ignoring that stupid smile of his that she can still see out of the corner of her eye. 

"That must be hard for you."

"What must be?"

He's smirking a little when he turns to look at her. "Not knowing everything for once."

"I've never claimed to know everything."

"Right. You just act like you know everything then."

Cassandra squares her shoulders in her seat, fixing her eyes on the road and preferring not to reply. She knows he's trying to provoke her. And she does not have the patience. 

They drive in silence for a bit as they near the outskirts of town, the wind whipping Cassandra's long waves of hair all over the place. (She'd never driven a convertible before, and the lack of barrier between her and the elements may or may not have been throwing her off a little). 

They soon pass a cluster of students sitting at a petrol station talking amongst each other, their faces tense — Cassandra thinks she's probably sporting a similar expression.

Harry seems to have noticed them and their faces too because as soon as they disappear out of view he mutters, "God, did you see them? They looked freaked."

"Well, aren't you?" Cassandra looks over at him, incredulously. 

"Think about it — this is the fucking dream. I mean, no adults, no responsibilities — absolute freedom," He's looking out the window when he says it, shielding his eyes from the sun, "We can do whatever we want. Why shouldn't we enjoy it a little?"

"I don't know — maybe because everyone has completely disappeared? And we have no idea where they've gone?"

He hums in response, barely even registering her comment. She lets out a breathy laugh.

"Aren't you at least a little bit concerned about your parents?"

She realises her mistake as soon as the words leave her mouth — not when all the colour drains from Harry's face but still — the damage is already done, and she feels fucking stupid. 

"I mean, y-your parent." She winces. "Your mom...fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," He turns his gaze away from her, his tone surprisingly calm, "I mean, it's not. But it is what it is."

Cassandra clenches her eyes shut for a moment, embarrassed by her own lack of awareness and stupidity. Because of course Harry's father's death was still raw. Hell, it had only been six months since he passed. And she just had to go and open her big mouth. 

She glances over at him tentatively but he's still avoiding her gaze.

He fiddles with the buttons on the console of the car for a moment longer before speaking. "One less person to worry about though, right?"

Then, he gives her a sad smile. It isn't cold. Or angry. And it's gone almost as soon as it arrives but she still feels bad.

"Harry...I really am sorry—"

"I said it's fine."

As they turn the corner, Cassandra's gaze remains on Harry, concern laced through her features. "But that was really inconsiderate of me and I just—"

"What the _fuck_?" He cuts over the top, eyes widening as he looks out at the road ahead.

Cassandra stares him for a moment looking confused. It's not until she turns her gaze back to the road that she understands. Letting out a gasp, she immediately slams her foot down on the brake, the car skidding to a halt. 

To say Harry's appearance of serenity from before had completely vanished would be grand understatement. They both step out of the car wordlessly, approaching the Leaving West Ham sign — the one that stands at the edge of the road leading out of their small town except — there is no road. Or at least, no visible road. 

There's nothing but weeds and vines and trees — a forest that stretches out for what looks like miles and miles — a forest that should _not exist._

Cassandra feels her heart thumping rapidly in her chest. She almost feels lightheaded. 

"This doesn't make sense," She half whispers.

Harry walks up from behind her, running a hand through his curls, nervously. He sends her a look before they both move to the very edge of the greenery. 

"This doesn't make sense..." The blonde mutters again, reaching out to touch the grass. 

Some small part of her is praying that maybe this is all some big, fucked up illusion that'll disappear the second her hand makes contact with the forest — but to no avail. Her hand meets the ground — and all the damp leaves scattered above it. It's real. And it's not going anywhere. 

She feels Harry tugging on her arm gently, gesturing for her to follow him. 

"Come on," He says, with a sense of urgency, pulling her back towards the car.

He settles into the driver's seat before Cassandra can say a word, putting the key in the ignition. She reluctantly slides into the passenger's seat as he reverses the hell out of there. 

"You shouldn't be driving," The blonde says quietly, (because she's still in shock and berating Harry is the only normal thing she can think of doing right now). 

He doesn't say anything in response, merely focusing on the road while she watches the houses and buildings fly past in silence. She doesn't even have to ask him where he's going. And when he pulls over on the bridge at the other side of town and they scramble out of the car, a string of curse words leave Harry's lips.

"What the actual fuck is going on?"

They stand several feet apart, Harry at the edge of the bridge, Cassandra in the middle of it, staring at what appears to be a mirror image of the other side of town: another endless sea of trees. 

"Hey, check this out," He waves her over, looking down below the bridge. 

Cassandra moves to his side, peering over the railing. She sees the train tracks below disappear into winding vines and bushland. That's it, then. They are completely surrounded. By nothing but dense forest. 

Now, Cassandra's a logical person. But none of this is logical. None of it. And she thinks she might start hyperventilating. She really might. But Harry looks over at her and she takes a breathe. 

And she realises for the first time, that she's glad he's there. With her. His arm brushing lightly against hers, as the world they once knew quickly disintegrates before their eyes.

"We're so fucked." 


	2. take you like a drug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update (who am i??? omg) and yes, i know this concept has been done before but i couldn't resist writing my own version. we really deserved to see this interaction. hope you enjoy! <3

**[episode one: what happened ii]**

_; at the pharmacy_

Cassandra sucks in a breathe, twisting the bobby pin round and around in the key hole. 

"Come on!" She pleads, as if willing the stupid metal gate to open of its own accord, "Fuck, c'mon—"

The blonde girl brushes her fringe out of the way, in frustration, leaning forward to get a better grip on the damn thing. Gathering all her strength, she attempts to ply it open again and again and _again._ But to no avail. It won't fucking budge. She lets out an angry groan.

Now, Cassandra knows it's not a smart plan — robbing the pharmacy, that is. But she's running out of options. And time. 

And despite all her desperate attempts at forcing it open, the gate still remains bolted shut. Fantastic.

"Fuck me," She curses loudly, throwing her head back in frustration. 

"I will, if you ask nicely."

Cassandra freezes on the spot, right before she feels her blood runs cold.

That voice. That _stupid_ , arrogant self-righteous voice. Of course. She loosens her grip on the metal gate slightly, shaking her head. (And it's at this moment, that Cassandra begins to think God must really be trying to screw her over.) 

She doesn't even bother turning around and continues fiddling with the bobby pin. Sensing movement behind her, she guesses he's only a metre or so away. Fucking hell. Of all people to find her here. It had to be him. She braces herself. 

"Well, if this isn't the plottwist of the century — our very own student body president has a drug problem?"

"Now is _really_ not a good time, Harry," She exclaims, panting slightly as she throws her full weight against the gate for the third time. 

Again, it's not budging. She can feel Harry Bingham watching her closely, as she finally glances over at him.

"You know, you are such a fucking hypocrite," He says, looking both amused and furious all at once, "All that shit this morning about me not being sober, and turns out you're just as bad?"

Cassandra can feel sweat running down her forehead, her nausea is back and the room is starting to spin. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

"You have _no_ idea what you're talking about," She manages to get out, her whole body slackening as she leans against the wall for support.

"Oh well, do enlighten me then — what is it adderal? Oxy? Or are you more of a meth girl?"

He's standing opposite her now, close enough that she can get a good look at him. He's wearing one of his stupid button down shirts and his stupid boat shoes and he's doing that stupid smirk thing that she used to like but now hates—

"Harry — this isn't funny."

"I think it's pretty funny—" He cuts over her, arms crossed in front of his chest. 

He takes a step closer — all slow and deliberate, as if her life isn't ticking away from her at this very moment—

"So, what are you gonna do when I tell your precious followers that you're a drug addict?" 

"I'm not addicted to drugs, okay?" She whispers, in a strangled voice as the pain in her chest threatens to envelope her completely, "I just have an- an illness—"

"Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

"Harry, please, I'm being serious — now, can you just stop being a dick for like two seconds and help me open this thing?"

She hates herself for asking — asking anything of him. Even on a normal day she wouldn't be caught dead doing it — let alone, in a life or death situation. She doesn't want to owe him _anything_. 

(But if she doesn't do something now, she might not be alive _to_ owe him anything.)

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side. "And why would I do that?"

"Seriously?" A breathy laugh of disbelief leaves her, as she rests her forehead on the gate.

A devilish smile creeps its way onto his lips, and she finds herself loathing him more than the usual amount. "Yeah — what do I get in return?"

"A fucking gold star — I don't care — will you just _help_?" She all but yells, stepping so close to him that their chests are almost touching. 

She hadn't meant to step that close, but everything is a little hazy right now, and she may have lost her balance just a little. To her surprise, his gaze drops to her lips and stays there. Her eyes narrow. 

"What?" She snaps, but he says nothing, his gaze flitting between her eyes and her lips, " _What the fuck are you staring at?_ "

"Uh, your lips...they're...they're like, blue?" He says, gesturing to his own mouth, his arm brushing against hers on the way. 

"B-blue?" She stutters, before the realisation hits her. 

The raised flesh on her chest throbs incessantly, as she raises her fingers to her lips. A shiver runs through her body, and it takes everything in her to remain standing. She's swaying slightly, when she finally meets his eyes again. He's watching her, his eyebrows creased in concern. 

She can feel her fringe plastering to her damp skin, and realising she's running out of time, Cassandra makes a split decision before she can stop herself — she starts to pull at the buttons on her collared shirt.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks, with an accusatory tone, but the worry in his voice still remains. 

Without responding, she parts the collar slightly so the red, angry scar in the centre of her chest is visible. "It's a congenital heart defect."

His eyes land on the scar, and he opens his mouth to say something but closes it again - pity laces through his features - an expression she's never seen on his face. He doesn't move. 

The blonde lets out impatient huff. "It's not like you haven't seen my chest before."

But Harry merely continues to stare at her, looking taken aback.

"And you never even commented on it," She mumbles, quieter this time. It's her turn to avoid his gaze. 

"Thought it would ruin the mood," Harry retorts, defensively, but it causes her to look up. He almost looks embarrassed.

"How thoughtful," The blonde girl quips, attempting a sarcastic tone, but the wince she lets out on the last word takes way from her delivery.

The pain in her chest is almost unbearable now - to the point where she almost feels numb from it. She makes a move towards the door, focusing all her attention on putting one foot into another. But he stops her before she can make it half way. His hand closes gently around her arm. 

"Wait — where are you going?" His eyes widen in alarm, as he moves his hand from her arm to her forehead, "Shit, Cass, you're burning up?"

She feels a jolt run through her, from the use of the old nickname but before she can chastise him for it, her legs give way and she finds herself hurtling towards the floor.

He breaks her fall, arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders before she hits the ground. He's swearing and whispering things he doesn't mean: _shit, hang in there, Cassandra_ — _hey, stay with me, Cass_ — _you're going to be okay_ — _just hold on, don't close your eyes_ — _please don't close your eyes_ — _don't you dare die on me, Cassandra—_

She wants to tell him to let go, but her vision is fading quickly — and knowing that he's the only thing keeping her upright, she lets her head fall to his chest. His warmth encloses around her as all the fight leaves her body, and she wills herself to place her life into the hands of the one person who must loathe her more than anyone else. 


	3. we could call it even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new update!!! hope you enjoy this chapter...getting into a bit of angst now....any comments or kudos or feedback would be greatly appreciated! love you all <3

**[ between the events of episode one and two ]**

_at harry bingham's house_

_Cassandra's Phone, 8:07am_  
  
CASSANDRA: Harry, are you awake? I really want to talk to you.  
  
HARRY: who is this?  
  
CASSANDRA: Stop it, you know it’s me.  
  
HARRY: are you a stalker  
  
CASSANDRA: Harry, this isn’t funny.  
  
HARRY: how did you get this number?  
  
CASSANDRA: Oh my god.

HARRY: cassandra do u know what time it is  
  
CASSANDRA: 8 o’clock?  
  
HARRY: yea h early.  
  
CASSANDRA: ?????  
  
CASSANDRA: Please, it’s important.  
  
HARRY: maybe some other time  
  


 _CASSANDRA (1) missed call._  
  
CASSANDRA: I’m literally at your house.  
  
HARRY: what the fuck cassandra

Cassandra stands awkwardly on the front steps of the Bingham mansion, the wind sweeping through her light blonde waves. She hasn’t been here since Harry’s 13th birthday party in middle school. But it’s just as impressive as it had been back then. The Bingham house was easily one of the largest in West Ham and everyone knew it. And standing on his front porch which was triple the size of her own, Cassandra was beginning to feel small.  
  
She shoves her phone back into her pocket, twiddling her thumbs. Maybe, he won’t even answer the door? Or maybe he’ll leave her outside for so long she’ll eventually just give up and leave? The list of possibilities seemed endless? But she barely makes her way half way down it, when the door swings open.  
  
A grumpy-looking, sleep deprived Harry Bingham stands on the other side, glaring at her. Before he can say a word though, she jumps in.  
  
“What I have to say will only take a minute,” She insists, trying to smile at him but it falters under his stare.  
  
He watches her for a moment, before side stepping out of the doorway and gesturing her to come in.  
  
“This better be good,” He says, gruffly.

His house is cleaner than she expects, but her eyes quickly fall on the number of empty cans and bottles spaced around the front room. The liquor store already seemed to be running mysteriously low, and she had a feeling she knew where all of it was going. 

She doesn't comment on it. Clearing her throat, she shifts her gaze back to Harry, taking him in properly for the first time since she entered the room. He looks tired, with dark circles lining his eyes. His curls sit messily around his face, his lips pursed in a line as he stares back at her. 

He's wearing the same button down he was wearing that day at the pharmacy. She wonders if she should thank him for helping her that day. Nearly a week had passed, but with the meeting in the church, Campbell holding her at gunpoint and Emily's death, she hadn't had the chance. He had taken her home and stayed by her side until Allie had returned, or so she had been told. 

(And didn't leave until he was sure she was okay. This part she struggled to believe, but Allie insisted it was the truth). 

It makes her think about the way he held her hand that night in new haven — when he saw her taking her medicine. And he kept asking if she was okay. She still remembers the warmth in her chest when he squeezed her palm gently. 

She doesn't say any if this, of course. 

"I forgot how big your place was," She says, kind of lamely, eying the long hallway behind them, the walls adorned with family photos and old expensive-looking paintings, "It's been a while."

Harry sends her a look. "What do you want, Cassandra?"

The blonde girl nods, brushing her fringe out of her eyes, deciding it better to just cut to the chase. 

"I need your help with something."

"What makes you think I would help you?" He says bitingly, and Cassandra almost winces at the coldness in his tone. 

"Harry, please," She continues, taking a small step closer, "We both know that you — as much as I hate to admit it — have a certain influence over people here."

A smirk forms on his lips. "You think so?"

"I _know_ so."

"Well, so what if I do? Maybe they're just tired of listening to you."

"I'm sure they are," She agrees, ignoring the small change in Harry's expression — he almost looks surprised. 

She ploughs on. "Look, people follow you. They listen to you."

"Get to the point, Pressman," He cuts in impatiently. 

"Okay, I know what you think about me and the way—"

"I don't think about you."

"What I'm trying to say is—" The blonde girl says loudly this time, so as not to let him cut her off again, "— when people have a problem with me, they go to you, right?"

Harry raises his eyebrows, looking sceptical, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "I guess."

"That's why I think we should work together," Cassandra says, tentatively, "If we work together, then we can cover all bases."

Harry opens his mouth, ready to object but—

"You don't have to come to the meetings if you don't want to," She adds, quickly, "Just help me keep things under control — help me keep an eye on things."

Harry crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking unimpressed. "You want me to your little 'spy'?"

"You wouldn't be my _spy_ per say, just helping me keep the chaos at bay. Stop it before it starts, type of thing?"

"I'm not doing your dirty work, Cassandra," He says, dismissively, "You know, I really don't give a fuck about any of this."

Cassandra lets out a breathy laugh. "Bullshit."

"I don't?"

Suddenly feeling daring, she moves even closer to him. He's still a metre or so away, but given the spaciousness of the room, it almost feels intimate. "And I don't believe you." 

"Harry, you saw what happened to Emily — and with Campbell around? None of us are safe here and until we can figure out how to get home -- we need some stability!"

"No, you just want to take over, like you always do," He waves a finger in her face, accusingly.

Cassandra falls for the bait, her voice rising without her even realising. "What the fuck does that mean—"

"And Campbell is not the problem."

"Oh — so you think him pointing a gun to my head was okay?" She questions, flaring up at him, her eyes wide.

"No, but—"

"He's dangerous, Harry," She says, darkly, "You don't know him like I do."

Harry raises his arms up in defeat, looking tired and annoyed. "I didn't say I did — look, the answer is no. I don't wanna be a part of — whatever this thing you're cooking up is."

At that, he turns his back on her and walks back towards the front door. He pulls it open in one swift movement, and holds it there, as if beckoning her immediate departure from his house. But Cassandra doesn't move. She's not looking at him when she finally speaks.

"Is this about Yale?" 

Harry stops in his tracks, wheeling around to face her, his hand clenching round the door handle. Disbelief registers in his eyes, and he shakes his head at her. 

"I cannot believe you just said that."

"Because if it is, I t-think you're being a bit immature," She says, stammering slightly. 

" _I'm_ being immature? You're the one who acts like it never happened?"

"That's because I thought _you_ didn't want anyone to know!" Cassandra splutters, indignantly. 

"I _don't_ want anyone to know!" He fires back, stepping closer to her. 

She finds herself looking anywhere but him, her cheeks burning a deep shade of crimson. 

"It was a mistake," He eventually mutters, quietly, "....right?"

Cassandra slowly meets his gaze and there's a flicker of something in his eyes — sorrow? Regret? Tenderness? It vanishes almost immediately, but she finds something electric in his stare. She can't look away. And she doesn't want to.

"Right." She finally replies, the words leaving her barely above a whisper. 

Cassandra takes that as her queue to leave and steps towards the front door. He doesn't move when she reaches him, his hand still holding the door handle firmly.

"Well, at least we can agree on something," He says, avoiding her gaze.

The blonde girl pauses beside him before nodding. Turning away from him with an air of awkwardness, she makes her way to the porch and down the front path without looking back. 


	4. i'll fight because i got nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new update! sorry this is really short. but i have a few more to go so i hope you enjoy <3

**[ episode two: our town ]**

_on george st avenue, west ham_

The streets are incredibly quiet, as Cassandra makes her way back from Bean's house to her own. She had spent the entire morning with Allie and their friends, deciding on a way forward that wouldn't freak out the rest of the student body — a discrete way to figure out how the hell they would tackle this insane situation which seemed to be their reality. And she'd spent the remainder of the day on Bean's lounge room floor with Gordie, making a list of things they needed to look into. 

Feeling exhausted, hungry and ready to fall into bed, she turns the street corner, shooting a text to Allie to let her know she's nearly home. But when she glances up, she notices a familiar face heading her way. Sporting his usual button down and boat shoes, she sees Harry making his way up the street, heading in her direction. 

"Harry!" She calls out, before she can think twice about it. 

He looks up, and the subtle eye roll he does when he sees her doesn't go unnoticed by Cassandra — despite him being several metres away, 

"Cassandra!" He announces dramatically, and she begins to regret even bothering to greet him at all, "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I've been keeping to myself."

He gives her a funny smile, like he knows something she doesn't and her eyebrows crinkle. 

"Counting food..." He mutters, half under his breath, and Cassandra crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm sorry?"

"Right...I was at the supermarket," He says, almost scathingly, "I saw."

"Saw what?" Cassandra asks, innocently, "People counting food you said, like to see how much we have? That's a really good idea — did you help them?"

"No— I'm busy," He bites back. 

She merely smiles, shaking her head. "I bet."

With that, he gives her one last look, before heading in the opposite direction. 

"Still can't believe you're playing fugitive," She says, quietly, and just as she expects him to, he stops on the spot and turns back around.

"What's wrong with fugitive?" 

"Isn't it a kids game?"

"Not the way I play," He says, with a hint of cheekiness and Cassandra rolls her eyes but says nothing. 

He steps towards her, looking her up and down. "And to think — I might've asked you to be my partner."

"Oh? Where's Kelly?" She challenges, tilting her head up to look at him, "She not available?"

"You know exactly where she is," Harry replies bitterly, his teasing tone disappearing almost as soon as it arrived, "At the store with _Will_ , on your instruction I'm guessing."

"Well, at least someone's got their priorities straight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He snaps, loudly, "Just because some of us want to have a bit of fun for five fucking minutes in this hell hole?"

She lets out a small laugh at that. "Hell hole? I thought you liked it — no adults, no rules — complete freedom — isn't that what you said?"

"Yeah, before you came along and proclaimed yourself dictator."

"Harry, that's not — we have a committee," She lets out a frustrated sigh, "I told you this-"

"And _I_ told _you_ that I'm not interested," He says through gritted teeth.

They stand in silence for a moment, before Cassandra eventually nods, waving a hand out in front of her. 

"Well fine then — you can go back to playing fugitive and running away from everything, as usual."

"You're one to talk," He retorts, a little quieter this time, "Running away from things."

She finds his gaze and holds it for a moment, unsure of what to say — her steady blue eyes staring into his. Taking a slow step back, she looks away, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling settling in her gut. 

"I'll see you around, Harry," She finally manages to get out, and curses herself for sounding so small when she says it. 

Cassandra can feel his eyes on her as she walks away. "You know Allie's coming tonight."

She halts on the spot, turning her head slightly. _No, she did not know that._ The gnawing feeling in her stomach only seems to be getting worse by the second. 

"You didn't know?"

"No," She falters, trying to sound unbothered by this strange new information, "But she can do what she likes -- I don't have to go wherever she goes."

"Just as well — wouldn't want you there to spoil the fun," Harry says with a greasy smile, sticking the knife in one final time with his words, before turning on his heel and making his way down the other end of the footpath.

Cassandra watches him until he's out of sight, wishing she could pull her gaze away. But she just can't. 


	5. and i can't take it back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update???? who am i????? hope you enjoy this <3

**[ episode two ii: our town ]**

_at the Pressman household_

Cassandra's busying himself by the stove when Gordie walks in, holding a stack of books and his phone. The sky outside is looking stormy, and Cassandra's grateful to be inside -- and not at Harry's _stupid_ game of fugitive. 

Gordie perches on the seat closest to the bench and they make small talk for a little while. About food storage and the possibility of rations. And then the subject strays back to her health. Which she had been trying to pull him away from all day. Allie had been right earlier. She didn't want to make him feel used. Even if she needed him more than she could say. 

"You hungry?" She says, with a smile, trying to redirect the conversation back to the present. 

She's bringing the pasta to the boil, when he speaks. 

"No, I'm not that hungry actually."

Cassandra throws a glance over her shoulder. "It looks really good, I reckon you should try it-"

"Cassandra, I have question," He suddenly asks, more loudly this time, but she can sense the tentativeness in his tone.

She gestures at him to speak, leaning against the bench behind her. 

"Have you been sleeping with someone?"

Cassandra pause on the spot, folding up the tea towel she had been holding in her hands. She had been expecting this. Ever since, he found out she was taking the pill. And she had been _dreading_ it. 

"No...well yes," Cassandra says, a bit lamely, turning around to face him, "I mean, there was someone."

"Is it someone I know?" He asks, perking his head up a little, his eyes wide, "You know, do they go to our school?"

She shakes her head, quickly. There was no way he could know. _No_ way. "No, he doesn't."

"I...he was a guy I met when I was visiting Yale," Cassandra pulls the chair out next to him, and slides into it, hoping her lying skills are better than they usually are, "But...I only saw him twice...."

Which was sort of true. In a sense.

Gordie's watching her, with curiosity. And she wishes he wouldn't look at her like that. What he says next, he says quietly — without looking at her.

"If we were back home, would you...you know, be with him?"

Cassandra pauses, looking over at him. And for a moment, she allows herself to imagine it. Her and Harry. Together. Back home. It seems like a fantasy now. So, out of reach. So far gone. The only place she can see them is at Yale. Well -- before she went and ruined that. 

The place where he gave her his jumper and walked her home. The place where he kissed her scars and held her hand through the night to let her know he was there. The place where she felt closer to him than she ever had. 

But that was then. This is now.

"I...don't — no," She says, her voice shaking a little, as she stared down at the table in front of them, "Probably not. Things with Ha- him, are — _were_ complicated."

He nods, and she thinks that might be the end of this painful conversation. She stands up and moves back over to the stove, brushing her hair out of her face. 

"Do you still love him though?"

She halts. "What?"

"Do you still love him?" 

Cassandra lets out a small laugh, as she stirs the pasta sauce. 

"No— no, I mean, no way — we only- no...there's just **—** no, definitely not..." She trails off, the words leaving her mouth with such haste that they all jumble together. 

And she knows the lack of certainty in her tone is going to make Gordie ask more. But she doesn't want to talk. Not when she may or may not have just realised something that she had been burying inside her for months now. 

Maybe, even years. 

"I....I don't wanna talk about this," She says, shortly, turning away from him again. 

She can hear him fumble around behind her, sounding worried. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset, I just-"

"It's okay," She says, more gently this time, but without meeting his gaze. "Let's just eat. Shall we?"

_at the Bingham household_

Harry doesn't know why he does it. But Allie's lips are warm and he's hard -- so he leads her back to his room without a second thought. They stumble a little, as they reach the upstairs landing, neither of them saying a word. And when they make it to the door of his bedroom, she kisses him. And despite every attempt not to, his thoughts stray to the other Pressman sister — not that she isn't in his thoughts most of the time anyway. 

He's making comparisons without even realising it — remembering the way Cassandra's mouth tasted sweeter to him, the way her deep blues eyes cut straight to the bone, the way he had sunk into her and the sounds of her breathy moans in his ear had set his insides on fire. See, before Cassandra, foreplay always seemed like a means to an end. But with her, she could've kissed him forever and he wouldn't have minded. But he's trying really, _really_ hard not to think about all of this. 

Because Allie is — fine. She's _good_. She's _pretty_. But it's not the same. And that's all he can think about when he's crouched besides her on the bed, fiddling with the condom, while she kisses his neck. When he's thrusting into her, letting out deep guttural groans. When he rolls off her onto his back, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling that seemed to be settling in his gut as the last effects of his organism wear off. 

He shuts his eyes momentarily, forcing a smile -- but internally, feeling like a puzzle piece that had been forced back into the wrong spot. Allie has an odd expression on her face as she lies beside him, and he's playing with the ends of her hair because he doesn't know what else to do. Then, they're putting on their clothes again and the gravity of what he's just done starts to hit him. 

She's pulling on his hand a little as they move back down the stairs and smiling at him every so often. When they make it to the kitchen where the rest of his friends seemed to be, he pushes a beer into her hands, and they sit back with the others. And this is fine.

;

When the power goes out, chaos ensues. And when they make it to the edge of the main street, he realises she's still holding his hand. Something about it doesn't feel right. But he doesn't let go.

"Come on, there's shelter over there--" She shrieks, half laughing as she pulls him behind her towards what used to be the old News Agents in West Ham. 

There's a few people standing under its roof, but the rain and the darkness is making it difficult to see who. He's holding a jumper over their heads, as they run, trying to shield them from the oncoming of rain. And when they reach the News Agents, he drops the jumper to his side, half laughing, half out of breath. 

It takes him a moment to realise who's standing opposite him. Cassandra. And that stupid nerdy guy she always hangs out with. She's not looking at him though, she's looking at Allie: her expression one of surprise and maybe, shock.

It doesn't take him long to realise why. Allie's body so close to his, her hair a tangled mess, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. Must paint a vivid picture. 

That shock quickly turns to hurt when her eyes fall on him. He swallows, unable to look away from her. Her eyes are wide, and full of hurt and staring straight down to his soul. And just staring back at her is making his own eyes burn. With guilt, with anger, with every emotion they've possibly shared these last few months. He suddenly wants to hold her. And touch her. And kiss her. 

But he also wants to gloat, to show her he can be with whoever he wants — even her sister. To prove that even if she didn't want him, someone would. 

(Perhaps, that's what all this was about: finding someone to want you back.) 

But he just _can't_ do it -- not to her. So, all he does is stare back at her, wishing he'd never laid eyes on her sister.


	6. turn me on and turn me down

**[ between the events of episode two and three ]**

_at the Pressman household_

It's a little after three o'clock when Cassandra hears a loud knock at her front door. An aggressive and persistent knock. The blonde quickly realises it can't be any of her normal visitors. Allie has a key, neither Grizz nor Helena would ever cause such a ruckus and Gordie is sitting across from her, reading a comic. He looks over to her when he registers the sound, but before he can fully get up, she shakes her head.

"I'll get it," She says warmly, as Gordie lowers himself back into his chair.

Cassandra wanders over to the door, stifling a yawn as she goes. She hasn't been sleeping well as of late, and the lack of sleep was causing not only increased fatigue but also terrible headaches.

She pulls open the door in one swift motion and suppresses a sigh when she finds none other than Harry Bingham standing on her doorstep — positively fuming, she might add. _Speaking of headaches_ , she thinks to herself.

"We need to talk," He announces loudly, his dark hair falling into his eyes. 

He looks about as tired as she feels. Cassandra fumbles around for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. She still doesn't feel ready to talk to him. About anything. Not after the other night. 

"I'm actually in the middle of somethi—"

"Right now." He brushes past her in the door frame, inviting himself in before she can object.

The blonde closes the door behind him, clenching her eyes shut in annoyance. 

He makes his way to the middle of the room, before turning around to face her, his shoulders tense, his hair a tussled mess on his head.

"To what do I owe this displeasure?" She questions when she turns around, hands on her hips.

"I have a bone to pick with you."

"When do you not?"

He opens his mouth to retort something (that she would no doubt find borderline offensive) but he stops himself at the last second, looking somewhere behind her — a frown gracing his features.

Cassandra throws a glance over her shoulder, surprised to find Gordie standing in the corner of the room — in that awkward yet endearing way of his.

Harry sends him a pointed look. "Uh...can I talk to Cassandra for a second?"

Gordie shifts on the spot, standing up straighter. "Well, I-I think it would be better if I stayed."

Harry stares blankly at him for a moment, before he laughs loudly.

"Is he for real?" He turns his gaze back to her, "What are you paying him or something?"

"I just think Cassandra needs to have someone here with her," Gordie pipes up then, and she really wishes (and not for the first time) that he wouldn't insert himself in her business.

"How do _you_ know what Cassandra needs?" Harry snaps, his eyes flitting between her and Gordie, looking incredulous, "Am I not allowed five minutes alone with the _queen_ herself?"

"I just think—"

"Gordie, please go," Cassandra instructs, ignoring Harry rolling his eyes at her from a few feet away.

"But—"

She sends Gordie a pleading look. "Please? I can handle Harry, it's okay."

He eventually nods in defeat, and moves towards the back door, dragging his feet. The second he's out of ear shot, Cassandra whips around to face Harry, flicking her hair out of her face.

"I get you're mad at me, but you can't just be a dick to everyone," She mutters, as he circles the room slowly.

He stops at the kitchen bench opposite her — the top buttons of his shirt falling open a little as he leans forward, revealing his chest. (And Cassandra hates herself for noticing.)

"Yeah, look, I'm gonna need you to stop telling me what to do," He says, savagely, his dark eyes watching her with contempt.

The blonde girl lets out an audible sigh but nevertheless, gestures at him to speak, resting her elbows on the counter.

"There are twenty people living in my house because you told them that they could," He states, accusingly.

"Harry, we talked about this at the meeting—"

"Well, I never agreed to anything—?" He cuts in, looking furious.

"We need to share electricity — share resources, we don't know how much longer we-"

"But why do they all have to stay with me? I don't see twenty randoms living in your house."

"You have the biggest house, it made the _most_ sense—"

"—to you, maybe! It still doesn't make much sense to me," He says, a laugh rippling through him, "I also think it's funny that out of everyone, _I_ seem to be the one getting the worst end of the deal."

It takes a second for Cassandra to register his words before a look of disbelief fans out across her features. "What — you think I'm doing all of this to intentionally _spite_ you?"

"That's what it feels like, yeah."

She grins — she actually grins. "You are _unbelievable_."

"What — is that not what's happening here?" He snaps, not at all impressed by her amused expression.

"For fucksakes, Harry — this is not about you."

"It isn't?"

"This is about _all_ of us. This is about survival."

"Oh, cut the bullcrap, Cassandra," He waves a hand in her direction, "Save the speech for someone who gives a shit."

"It's true— the only way this works is if we work together," She explains as calmly as she can muster, "I don't know why you're being like this. It's not fair."

"You wanna talk about 'fair'?" His voice rising more and more with every word that leaves his lips, "Why is it fair that you get to share with only a few people and I get half the fucking senior grade shoved up my ass?"

"Our house is way smaller than yours, if you haven't noticed—" She splutters, in response.

"I don't know — it looks pretty big to me."

"It literally isn't-"

"Maybe I could live here instead?" He does a quick scan of the room, running a hand along the leather couch, "It'd be better than at my place at the moment!"

The blonde girl narrows her eyes. "Oh, you wanna live here, do you?"

"Why not? There'd be plenty of room!" He bellows.

"Well, that could be arranged," Cassandra seethes, "I'm sure you'd _love_ that — maybe you could _bunk_ with Allie!"

Harry's expression changes straight away at that. And Cassandra's eyes widen in shock — as if she herself hadn't been expecting that to slip out. _Fuck._

And then — she can't look at him. But she knows he's staring at her. And that her cheeks are burning, and she wishes she could take it back — fuck, does she wish she could take it back — but it's too late. Because now he knows. He _knows_. And _of course_ , she doesn't want him to know.

That _yes_ , it bothers her that he may or may not have had sex with her little sister. That _yes_ , it had felt like a slap in the face when she saw them together after his stupid game of fugitive. And that _yes_ , her eyes are stinging at the present moment because the look on his face has just confirmed what she already thought to be true — and somehow that makes it even worse.

He says nothing for a moment, dropping his gaze to the ground. And it's then, that the blonde girl is relieved that there's a bench creating a barrier of space between them.

"She told you?" He eventually asks — and the softness in his tone is making this so much harder than it already is. (Fuck him).

Cassandra straightens herself up, trying to gather at least some of the dignity that she had lost just moments ago. "She didn't have to."

He nods slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. She waits for him to say something mean — or to make fun of her — or to rub it in her face.

But he doesn't. Instead, he turns to face her. He almost looks sorry too — and it only makes her hate him more.

"Does she know about...you and me?"

"No, she doesn't," Cassandra says, quickly.

Harry tentatively takes a step towards her. "Well, Allie and I...we're not...you know, together — we just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself," She replies, quietly, still avoiding his eye line.

They stand in silence for a long time: Harry on one side of the bench, Cassandra on the other. But the air between them has shifted and the quiet is almost excruciating. Because it's so not _them_. She doesn't think they've ever stood this long in each other's company without speaking. Or fighting. Something about it feels off. It feels _wrong_.

She wishes he would just _leave_. Walk out the door and never come back. And it doesn't take him long before he seems to take a hint, because after drumming his fingers on the bench a couple more times, he makes a move for the door.

But he's half way there and Cassandra knows she can't let him go like this.

 _Sure_ , he slept with her sister and _sure_ , he's a fucking asshole most of the time and _sure_ , she can barely even look at him right now — but his concerns weren't exactly invalid — she'll give him that. She takes a second to swallow her pride before she calls after him.

"Harry...?"

He pauses near the door and she lets out a sigh, moving a little closer to him.

"Look, I'll see if I can get some people in your house moved around..." She mumbles, without looking at him, "You're...right. Twenty people is way too many...I should've realised."

Harry turns back around more fully to face her. She can't believe she's doing this. If this isn't the most humiliating experience she's shared with the boy opposite her, she doesn't know what is. 

"So, I'll see what I can do about...about that," She continues, the words leaving her with a tinge of awkwardness, "And I'm....I'm sorry."

He's smiling at her, when she finally looks up. And she can tell he's enjoying this. Smug bastard.

"Wow," He says, looking incredibly amused, "You sounded like you were in physical pain saying that."

"Shut up," She says, through gritted teeth.

"No, actually — it sounded like you were being held at gunpoint."

"Very funny."

"I mean, is it really that hard for you to admit that you're wrong—"

"Do you want my help or not?" She cuts him off, sharply.

(Because she can't let him gloat about how he's right. Not now.)

The amused smile painted on Harry's face dissipates a little, and that familiar look of disdain returns — he's nothing if not consistent.

"Oh, so I'm supposed to be grateful, am I? That her majesty is offering her services?"

Cassandra squares her shoulders, finally meeting his gaze. "Yeah, you should be."

She smiles a little when she sees his surprised expression. Maybe, she's being a bit unreasonable, but that's never stopped either of them before. And she feels back in control for the first time since her outburst earlier. Thank fucking god.

"Is that so?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Unless you want to keep living with your twenty roommates, then yeah," She replies, with an air of nonchalance. 

She looks pleased with herself as she looks over at him. She's done it, she thinks. She's got him right where she wants him.

But then — for some reason, he's stepping towards her. With an almost...smile. And that's not what's supposed to happen. That's not the way he's supposed to be looking at her — and she knows that look-

"What do you want — for me to grovel?" He drawls, leaning forward a little, a glint in his eye, "Get down on my knees and _beg_ for your help?"

The blonde girl flushes at his words and curses herself (and her body) for reacting at all. She can tell he's noticed because a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. She resists the urge to slap it off his face.

"I wouldn't mind seeing that," Cassandra manages to get out, tilting her chin up, surprising even herself with her own boldness. 

Harry's eyes darken and his smile only grows wider. He's standing dangerously close to her now, and she's not even sure how or when that happened. But he's there — and she can smell his cologne and feel his body heat radiating off him — and fuck, it feels good. It shouldn't. But it does.

He might kiss her, she thinks, as his eyes drop to her mouth. And she knows she should push him away. She really, _really_ should. Because who the fuck does he think he is? To barge in here and then do _this_?

(Maybe, she'll kiss him instead — now _that_ would surprise the hell out of him. And probably shut him up for good.)

"God, you think you're _so_ special," He taunts, his mouth mere inches away from her.

She can feel his curls brush against her forehead. And he's so close and familiar — and she's thinking about those nights in New Haven — she really tries not to but she can't help it. She's thinking about his hands on her and their bodies pressed together and his breath hot against her ear. And she can't decide whether she wants to pull him closer or never let him touch her again-

But she doesn't even get to make a choice, because he's already pulling away from her.

And she almost laughs because — she can't believe she let herself fall for this again. She feels like a fucking idiot. Her shoulders curl inwards almost immediately, her defences coming right back up again. She steps backwards a little.

It's not until she looks up at him that she realises he isn't even looking at her — he's looking somewhere over her shoulder. And he doesn't look happy.

"I think your lapdog's back," He mutters, almost bitterly, avoiding her gaze, "Looks like he brought a friend."

Cassandra's eyebrows furrow before she realises what he's talking about. She turns around slightly, to find Gordie having re-entered the kitchen. Bean is standing a little behind him, smiling sheepishly as they move to the sink, filling up a couple glasses of water.

The blonde purses her lips in a thin line, attempting a smile at them, but it doesn't reach her eyes. And luckily, it doesn't take them long to return to the living room and close the door after them.

(If she didn't know better, she would assume they've been listening this entire time. Fantastic. She'll definitely have to talk to them about that later, she thinks.)

Cassandra turns back to Harry, wrapping her jumper a little tighter around her body. She struggles to meet his gaze though, and instead fiddles with a loose string on her denim skirt.

"Don't call him that," She whispers after a moment, because it's all she can think to say.

But Harry just moves towards the front door, shaking his head. "You should really cut him loose already."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Cass," He sneers, as he pulls open the door and they're both met with a gush of cold air, "We both know you don't really want him."

"You don't know what I want," She mutters, stubbornly.

He gives her a look, and she tries her best not to crumple under his stare. But _goddamn_ if he can't read her better than anyone else. (Again, fuck him.)

Harry rolls his eyes before stepping out onto the porch, still facing her. But he's barely made it to the front steps when a voice from outside catches their attention. Cassandra looks over in surprise, before moving to Harry's side, curious about the noise.

"Cassandra! I managed to find some of those batteries we were looking for and -- oh, Harry. Hi."

It's Allie. She's walking up the garden path, heading straight towards them, a tote bag hanging off her shoulder. She gives them both an awkward smile as she approaches.

"Fuck," She hears Harry mutter under his breath, as his eyes dart between her and her sister.

She glances at him. "This should be good."

"Cassandra, I swear to god—"

"You know, Harry, Campbell's also related to us," She whispers, leaning in close so that only he'll hear, "If you wanted fuck another one of my other relatives."

When he turns to look at her, she doesn't think she's ever seen him look so shocked, but before he can launch an attack in response, Allie reaches them. Cassandra looks away to hide her smirk, ignoring the death stare Harry is sending her over Allie's shoulder.

"Harry—? What are you doing here?" The younger blonde asks, sending Cassandra a questioning look.

"I...." He fumbles for a moment, before locking eyes with his rival, and settling on an answer, "I was just leaving."

He nods at them both and turns to leave, but only makes it a few paces down the path before Allie calls after him.

"When's the next game of fugitive, Harry?" She yells (almost flirtatiously, she might add), and Cassandra's smile vanishes immediately.

She's already turning away from them and moving back towards the door (because this whole situation is fucking _weird_ and yeah -- maybe it feels a little raw too). But then, she hears his reply.

"I'll let you know," He says, with a laugh (a forced one at that — she can tell when it's real now) as he reaches the garden gate, "Maybe bring your sister too next time — you can show her how to have some fun."

Cassandra freezes in the doorway, her face unreadable. Without even turning around, she flips him off and continues on inside. From the sound of the gate slamming, she can tell he's out of their yard within seconds. And Cassandra lets out a sigh as she slumps onto a stool at the kitchen bench, ignoring the slightly put out look on Allie's face.

She'll worry about that later. She'll worry about all of this later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYY SOOOO i just find it hard to believe they never had a scene like this so here we are....anyways, hope you enjoyed it, and any kudos/comments would be greatly appreciated! love y'all


	7. i might get lost without you

**[ episode iii: childhood's end ]**

_at the Pressman household_

The older Pressman smiles to herself in the mirror as she flattens down her cream sequinned dress. It sits just off the shoulder and suits her figure nicely. She feels _pretty_. 

And she's happy with what she's wearing to their makeshift prom. She remembers, her mother helped her pick it out last spring when they were dress shopping in the city. There had been a sale on in one of their favourite stores, and she had complained that prom was months away, but her mother had insisted they buy it. Now, she was glad to have it. She's been trying really hard of late not to let herself think about her parents too much. Because when she did, all she wanted to do was sit and cry. 

But Allie needed her. The town needed her. So, she only let herself cry over them at night. When she was alone. And quietly, so no one could hear her.

And her mother would want her to enjoy this night, she's thinking to herself as she applies her lipgloss. And that's what she would do.

She's just adding the finishing touches of mascara, when the bathroom door bangs open behind her.

Allie comes spilling in, her frilly dress taking up half the room as she dashes towards the toilet. Her curly hair sits crazily around her face, the head-to-toe pink look seemingly the complete anthesis of Allie's entire personality,. 

"I need to pee—" She half announces, before she takes a seat.

The older Pressman watches her sister fidget and squirm for a moment, surprised to see her let out the smallest of winces.

Allie must notice her stare because she sends her a cold look.

"What?" She snaps.

She shrugs, looking round to face her younger sister a little. She's chewing on her nail anxiously, and refusing to look at her. "Are you okay?"

"Whatever," Cassandra sighs after a moment of silence, turning back to the mirror. Allie's evidently still mad about the committee thing. Which she gets. She just wishes she would've let her explain. 

"It's burning....when I pee," Allie eventually mutters, her cheeks reddening slightly.

She halts on the spot. "For how long?"

"A few days now."

"Probably a UTI."

Cassandra slowly turns around on the spot, staring her sister straight in the eye. She already knows the next question she has to ask. Holding her breathe, she tilts her head to the side, watching her closely. "Who have you been sleeping with?"

Allie's gaze shifts to the ground almost immediately and the redness in her cheeks returns — and that's all the confirmation she needs. Now, from both parties. Cassandra attempts to swallow the lump in her throat. Because she won't cry. Not now. Not in front of Allie.

"Well, I hope Mr Uti is taking you to prom," She says lightly, attempting a joke but it doesn't land.

"Next time — pee after? You should know that."

Cassandra places her eyeshadow pallet back onto the shelf before stepping towards the door but Allie's voice stops her.

"I know you know it was Harry."

The older blonde pauses on the spot. Allie's expression is unreadable when she turns around. But she's breathing heavily.

"So, you don't have to bother giving me one of your stupid lectures—"

"AI, I wasn't going to—"

"And I'm not sorry for it," She says, stiffly, and Cassandra's eyes widen in surprise, "I'm not."

The two sisters stare at each other for a moment, and Cassandra can't help but feel like something has shifted between them. And she hates it. But her sister's not backing down, so it's her who looks away first. 

"There's cranberry juice in the fridge, if you want it," is all Cassandra manages to say before she calmly leaves the room.   
  
  


* * *

_at the Bingham household_

It's just after dark when Harry starts on his second beer of the evening. Or maybe his third. He hasn't really been counting. All he knows is that he had already managed to spill some down the front of his shirt. So, it's a good thing he wasn't wearing his tux. Not that he's even decided if he's going to this stupid prom thing anyway. 

"You guys are just jealous that you ain't got dates," Jason announces, with a laugh, and Harry finds himself tuning back into the conversation. 

They're all lounging around his pool, beers in hand. Marc is even playing with he mini golf set Harry's dad had bought them a few years ago. He doesn't have the energy to tell him to put them back. Instead, he moves his gaze back to the pool, the water so covered in leaves that it's impossible to see the bottom. 

Harry feels Marc send him a look, a few moments later and he braces himself. "Where's Kelly? Aren't you taking her?"

Jason laughs louder this time. "Oh — she dumped his ass!"

Marc lets out a laugh, looking back at Harry. "What, for real?"

"Yeah, haven't you seen her lately — with that Will guy?" Jason continues, shaking his head, and taking another swig of his beer.

Scott stares at him blankly while plonking down on one of the poolside chairs.

"You know — the annoying one who always hangs out with Cassandra?" Jason continues, gesturing dramatically, "He's a fucking pain."

"Speaking of — did you hear Cassandra at the church yesterday?" Marc interjects, loudly, "What a load of bullshit."

Scott nods vehemently, as does Jason. Harry leans back in his chair, tracing lines in the condensation of his beer bottle.

"Acting like we're the enemy — beggars in our own homes — just because we don't wanna follow her stupid rules?" Scott spits, taking a swig of his drink, frustratedly, "Nah, fuck that."

"Well, they made her queen, so," Harry inputs, tiredly.

It's all he can think to say. He's more interested in the lights reflecting off the pool onto the walls of his house than this conversation. In fact, he'd rather be anywhere than here.

"Should've been you, dude." Marc offers, and the others all murmur in agreement.

He doesn't look up, thinking back to a few weeks ago when Cassandra had approached him about joining the committee. 

"I'd much rather listen to you than her," Scott says, letting out a loud sigh, "Stuck up cunt."

Harry shifts on his seat uncomfortably, still staring at the ground. "She asked me to help her, you know."

"No way — really? As if."

"I said no."

 _If you didn't want me then, you can't have me now,_ he thought to himself bitterly.

"She's got some nerve huh — taking over everything like this," Scott says, scathingly, shaking his head, "I swear, she thinks she's god's greatest gift or some shit."

"Of course, little miss _perfect_ has to swoop in a save the day."

Harry almost laughs at that. It's like they don't know Cassandra at all. Not like he does.

"What did you expect?" He turns to face them, looking surprised.

"I mean...it's Cassandra," He continues, a little quieter this time, "It's always been Cassandra."

He hadn't meant the words to leave him like that, but he lets them hang for a moment. He feels Jason's eyes on him, as he sinks back into the chair. He lets her stupid perfect face flash into his mind for a minute, and he shuts his eyes momentarily. Wishing she didn't have the power to hurt him anymore. 

"I think we'd all be better off without her," Marc says, with a grin as Scott and Jason nod.

"Sometimes, I wish she'd just disappear," Harry half mumbles, staring into his beer can.

"Don't we all, dude?" Jason chimes in, laughing as he clinks his beer with Marc's, "I think, someone just needs to knock her down a peg or two.

Scott raises his glass, with a smile. "I'd agree to that?"

"Probably just needs a good fucking?" Marc jokes, and one of the guys howl with laughter. 

"A good fuck — yeah, that'd loosen her up."

Harry feels his hand clenching around his glass bottle, at their words. 

Marc turns back around to face the others. "Would you guys actually fuck her? Like for real?" 

"Nah," Scott mutters, shaking his head in amusement.

"No? No — what about you man, would you fuck some sunshine into her?"

"Yeah- yeah, maybe," The shorter scrawny kid (Dewey? Dewey), sitting across from him says, and it makes Harry's blood boil as the space around them erupts into laughter. 

"What about you, Harry?" Jason interjects, holding his bottle up, laughing, "Wouldn't you like to see her, you know — begging for it?"

Marc lets out a teasing laugh. "I bet he'd love that — her down on her knees—"

Before Harry's even realised what he's doing, he's smashed his beer bottle into the ground, the glass shards flying everywhere. And he's standing opposite Marc within seconds, ready to punch the guy if he opens his mouth again. "Shut the _fuck_ up!"

"You do _not_ get to talk shit on her like that, okay?" He bellowed, jabbing a finger into the centre of Marc's chest.

He sees the boy opposite him deflate a little, his eyes wide with shock. Harry's panting now, rage absolutely coursing through him. 

"Okay— _okay_ , jeez, man."  
  
"Don't you _ever_ do that again," He snaps, pushing past him back towards the house. 

His heart's racing, as he storms in through the backdoor. And it's only when he makes it up the first flight of stairs, that he notices his hand bleeding a little. Probably from the broken glass. 

He'll worry about that later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii so i always wanted an opportunity to rewrite the third episode (pool scene) because i, of course, was never okay with the way harry spoke about cassandra that night. i really wanted to rework the scene to show harry in a more favourable light and to show his anger towards cassandra is coming from a place of heartbreak. hope you enjoyed it <3


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